


Suffocating Heat

by Nova_Appleade



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Fluff, Hanahaki Disease, Luke is an adult, M/M, Mild Gore, Pretty Tame Honestly, Slight Suffocation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:22:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27591293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nova_Appleade/pseuds/Nova_Appleade
Summary: Luke suffers from an intense case of Hanahaki Disease.
Relationships: Hershel Layton/Luke Triton
Comments: 5
Kudos: 9





	Suffocating Heat

**Author's Note:**

> Luke's in his mid twenties here. The whole fic is AU-ish.

The floor swayed under Luke’s feet, the kitchen tilted in his vision, his chest heavy, contracting in a desperate attempt to breathe. He couldn’t breathe. Slender hands and fingers curled around the edge of the cold sink to gain stability as his knees trembled and buckled under the weight of his own body. Toes curled against the tile, knees hit the cabinet, head fell forward, neck unable to hold the weight any longer.

Luke could only focus on coughing, wheezing, the tightness in his lungs and ribs getting worse by the second, no matter how many pink petals spewed from his mouth and into the sink below him. Whole carnations ripped from his throat and fell from his mouth, the petals stained red from the gash they had torn within his lungs. The liquid was metallic and thick and dripped down his chin and neck, mixing with the sweat and tears that had already begun to push their way from his body. 

The petals often came with little warning. A sudden tightness, a force crushing from within, a wave of cold, and then the cough. The dry, tearing cough. Once he started, it was nigh impossible to stop from wheezing until the sores in his throat and mouth were reopened and there was a pile of pink and red at his feet. Never before had he experienced an episode so horrid, however, and never before had he seen his surroundings twist in such a way. An effect of the lack of oxygen? The strain on his body? Luke felt as if his soul would escape him any second as he realized he no longer had the strength to even keep his eyes open. It hadn’t helped the nausea anyway.

In the months leading up to tonight, the infection within Luke’s lungs had only spread and worsened with every attack. The first one couldn’t even qualify; it had been miniscule. A normal evening, sometime after lunch, he had taken the time to bring a cup of tea to the Professor who was held up in his study. He actually had done that quite often when time allotted, and understandably hadn’t thought much of the action. The weather that day had been bright, a nice change from the cool rain that had been plaguing London, and the sun shone into the study, painting everything in gold even through the curtains. A few words between the two, a gentle brushing of fingers as the saucer with its cup was exchanged, (Hershel’s hands had been calloused but warm) the lingering eye contact... It had lasted longer than Luke had noticed. As he stepped out of the room and into the hall, his mind swirled with the image of the Professor’s smile, the fond look in his eyes, and the tone of his voice. The warmth had been exuberant. It spread through every inch of Luke and manifested as a small smile plastered onto his face. In all honesty though, he always felt warm when in Hershel’s presence. Especially after reconnecting with him after all these years.

Though something had been different about that interaction. A sudden pull in his chest, a slight tenseness, a shiver and a cough, two coughs, three. The sudden lack of saliva in his mouth hit him as something soft pushed its way up his throat. A hand clasped across his mouth to muffle his struggling and his shoulders shook, but it had hardly been painful. Just uncomfortable. He could still feel the chill that erupted through his body at the sight of a single pink petal sitting in his palm after the episode subsided. He recognized the object immediately, though it didn’t help his confusion and shock in the slightest. Where in the world did it come from? Had he really coughed it up? That had made no sense. Why would he be coughing up carnations? That wasn’t possible.

It was possible though, and it hadn’t been an isolated incident. The more his mind drifted to the Professor, the more petals he coughed. For every time he thought of his smile, his firm hands, the warm caramel color of his eyes, a petal manifested and later tore from his lungs. It hadn’t been unbearable at first, but the infection worsened, the attacks became more frequent and nothing stopped them. Despite how quickly it had taken Luke to learn exactly what was inflicting him, and to learn what the cause, and the cure was, he still couldn’t believe it. There was no way he was actually feeling like this... No way. Even if all the evidence pointed to these newly blossoming feelings, he had struggled to accept them.

Perhaps that’s why it felt as if he was dying right now. If he had actually talked this out... If he had told Hershel... No, how could he? He couldn’t tell the Professor something like this. He had put in so much effort to hide it all, too... 

A stabbing cough tore through his throat all of a sudden and another whole carnation fell from his lips to join the mess of petals and blood that sat in the sink. Just like that, it was over. He could feel no more obstructions in his throat; As he gasped and wheezed in a desperate attempt to return oxygen to his brain, he could feel the tension ease from his chest, the room straighten in his vision. His muscles unwound, first in his shoulders, and then his back, and he didn’t have to grasp the sink as tightly as before, though he was far from having his strength back. 

This was going to kill him. Every petal stung worse than the last. Every cough ripped energy from his body. A rasped groan escaped his throat as he brought a hand to his forehead, pushing back the sweat soaked strips of hair from in front of his eyes. He felt so heavy, felt every muscle and bone strain as he pushed himself to stand up straight, a single hand still clutching at the sink for stability. At least he could breathe again. Mostly. A residual cough or two escaped his throat as he recovered, the pain from the agitated wounds stinging through it all, but the blood dripping down his lungs wasn’t pleasant. At least the pounding of his heart was beginning to slow, and that meant the blood flow would too.

How much longer would he last this way? How much longer would it take for the flowers to fill his lungs? Or worse, rip them to shreds entirely? The idea of death tightened his stomach and chest all over again. This was a real threat, and fear had consumed him to not speak about it. But even if he spoke, the Professor wouldn’t be able to help him. Hell, he probably already knew... A shaky sigh escaped his throat and he rested his head in his hand in an attempt to further calm himself.

Luke’s thoughts and the relative silence that had filled the room now was interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps and the call of a familiar voice. “Luke? Is everything alright?” The steps stopped, and the voice was close and- how did he get in the kitchen so fast? Luke hadn’t even-

“Ngh... Pr-Professor... I’m fine…” His voice struggled to stay even through being caught off guard. He kept his back toward the older man as he moved his arm to quickly, but as subtly as he could, wipe the fluids from his mouth and his chin on the sleeve of his pajamas. He must have woken Hershel up… Had he been more loud than he realized? It was entirely possible. He had been more focused on surviving the ordeal than how loud he was being... Something he’d probably regret soon. 

A moment of silence past, but just a moment. “My boy... I heard you coughing,” Hershel informed. Luke could hear the concern in his voice and found his chest tightening and warming in response. “Quite aggressively at that... do you need help?” Another step closer, then another before Luke could think to answer.

“Ah, no, no, Professor.” Luke couldn’t let him see this. The sight of the petals terrified himself, so who knew how Hershel would respond? His hand instinctively reached out behind him as he leaned over the sink to hide his shame. “I just-just have a stomach bug is all... It’s a mess, I’m sorry... just... don’t worry…” 

“Luke... I’ve never heard of someone coughing up a lung over a stomach bug before.” His voice was closer, and suddenly warm fabric brushed the tips of Luke’s extended fingers. “You’re shaking... at least come sit down.” A firm, heated hand clutched his forearm.

Oh curse Hershel for being so caring. 

The resulting tug on Luke’s arm pulled him backwards a few inches before his reflexes kicked in and he gripped the sink more desperately with his other hand, successfully keeping himself in place and resisting the movement. Though the heat was quickly spreading up his skin. “Please... I... I can handle this.” His voice firmed. Tightness consumed his chest, his stomach, and he resisted the urge to cough.

“You’re freezing. And dripping with sweat.” A small, but gentle tug.

“I’m fine.”

“You most certainly are not, Luke. Let me help you.”

It was tight, pulsing, contracting... Luke could feel the blood pumping under his skin and the drops of sweat run down face and back. Hershel’s hand was so warm it burned through the cotton of his sleeve and singed his wet skin. A breath ripped through his lungs and his arm tore away and, in the same turn, he shot his head to finally look up at the Professor above him. What the…?

Their eyes finally met. Heat spread through Luke’s heart, through his lungs and his stomach and his throat. Hershel’s caramel eyes... piercing into him, gripping at him in concern and confusion. He watched as those very eyes grew in surprise. They darted to the sight in the sink, shrunk in horror, and quickly returned to meet Luke’s once more. 

“Luke…”

Luke couldn’t tear his eyes from the Professor. Even as the tension built in his lungs, pulled them together, and his heart pounded wildly, his eyes focused on the way the older man’s face contorted. He knew... of course he knew. What didn’t he know?

“Hershel…” The younger rasped in response. The name felt weird in his mouth.

A pause. Another dart of brown eyes. They lingered on the sink longer this time, and Hershel’s top lip twitched, mouth curling, but not in a happy direction. Thoughts ran at an inhumane pace. Luke knew that look.

“I had suspected…”

“I figured as much.”

A burning hand grabbed at Luke’s arm once more and he allowed himself to be led across the kitchen and to the small wooden table against the wall. His feet dragged against the tile, legs heavy with blood, but Hershel didn’t seem to mind taking the extra time to make sure he was safely sat in a chair. Luke managed to shift his gaze away from the Professor and to the tiled floor, suddenly very interested in the creases between each one. He couldn’t let this get to him. So what if Hershel knew? It wasn’t that big of a deal… Right?

He lifted his eyes as shuffling pierced the silence of the room and watched as the Professor pulled a glass down from the cupboard to turn and fill it with water from the tap. Should Luke say something? Explain himself? Was there even anything that needed to be said? 

“Carnations…” Hershel was the first to speak. 

Luke shifted his gaze back to the tile. “They’re your favorite... ” The thumps of his pounding, heavy heart sunk into his ears. He could feel it in the tension of his chest.

“When did it start, exactly?” 

A moment passed for Luke to wrack his brain for the details. “Two months ago now, I guess... But I’m sure I was…” He hesitated with his words and turned his gaze to watch the older man set a glass of water next to him. “Feeling this way before that…”

Hershel didn’t answer at first, and Luke opened his mouth to add onto his sentence, but the first word was cut in half with a gasp. A sudden cold, wet, soft sensation on his forehead caused him to reel back and turn his head to the side. A second to recover later and his eyes lifted, meeting those piercing brown ones again. When had he gotten so close?

The hand that held the rag retracted only a few moments before moving back forward, fingers gently rubbing the cloth across Luke’s sticky, sweat covered skin in an attempt to clean him. “Go on, Luke.” He permitted. His eyes had focused on where his hand was moving, and Luke struggled to read his expression. He seemed so calm about it all... But he obviously didn’t know everything. How much had he figured out by himself?

Luke swallowed the lump building in his throat, ignoring the way the action agitated the sores there. What did he even want to say? His eyes fell closed and he allowed himself to melt and enjoy the feeling of the older so near, so caring in his actions. The cold water felt soothing against his clammy skin... Was Hershel just being nice though? He knew he cared for him of course but this was such a different situation than anything else they had been through. “I didn’t mean to let it get this bad, Professor... It had been a single petal and all of a sudden it just... got so much worse than that.”

As Luke explained the recent events, Hershel caressed the cloth across his forehead and down his temples, trailing across his cheekbones, his jaw, seemingly pausing across his lips. It had only been a split second worth of hesitation, the younger wasn’t entirely sure if it had really happened, but it had passed just as quick as it had come. The damp cloth traced over his lips, catching slightly on the cracked skin as it did its part to rehydrate. Luke’s breath caught in a familiar crushing sensation and a wave ran up his arms and chest, and he could suddenly feel the heat that had gathered in his face. There was the pressure, and the building and-oh not again. Not so soon. He took a quick breath.

The Professor’s hand quickly retracted once more and he stood up straight, making it apparent how he had been bent over the shorter. Worry twisted his features. “Are you alright, my boy?” 

A surge of heat exploded up through Luke’s body.

Then the loss of contact released the tension from his chest, almost as fast as flipping a switch. Another breath was sucked into his sore lungs and he gripped at his pajama pants in some sort of attempt at gaining stability. “Yeah-yeah... don’t worry…” His voice tried to portray reassurance.

“After seeing you cough up a whole flower garden, I’d say that’d be a hard task to accomplish.” The older wasn’t joking in the slightest, from what Luke heard from his tone, saw in his face, but he found it amusing nonetheless. 

A smile graced his lips, followed by a small laugh. “Yeah, I… I’m sorry, Professor…” The smile was gone as quick as it appeared, and he could sense the heaviness in the air once more. Even as the cloth returned to wipe at his neck and the dampness cleansed everything it touched, Luke could feel the heat spreading through their surroundings. “Maybe I should have said something…”

“You were scared… it’s perfectly natural to want to hide something like this…” Hershel’s voice was even, calm once more. 

“...How long have you known, then?” 

“I hadn’t known for sure, really.” Hershel pulled the cloth away from the younger’s face now, having sufficiently cleaned the sweat. “But I started to gain my suspicions when you began disappearing for long periods of time. You always looked so pale afterwards.” The older man turned his back, feet carrying him to the sink. “I realized you had been more distant... acting odd around me... but I hadn’t thought this would be the case. I hadn’t thought that you’d... well…”

Luke winced ever so slightly at the Professor’s words as he clasped his hands together on his lap. Despite everything, he could still feel his warmth radiating through his chest. Hershel always set him on fire. “I’ve… felt this way about other people, but never... I’ve never felt something like this…”

Hershel didn’t answer that time, perhaps stuck in thought, or unsure of what to say, and it definitely didn’t ease Luke’s concerns. He could feel the underlying tightness in his stomach, but oddly enough, he could still breathe. He wasn’t complaining about that of course, but the way his insides twisted wasn’t pleasant. And when had his palms started to sweat again? The uncertainty of all of this was driving him up the wall, though he had no choice but to just listen to what the Professor had to say to him. 

Luke had never been in a situation like this before. He had had crushes and been in relationships all throughout highschool, and a bit after even, though this was entirely different. Having his feelings so plainly and painfully exposed before he had been ready to even come to terms with them, and then not getting an outright answer to them, dancing around the subject like this... He knew what Hershel was doing. He was stalling for time. Was he still thinking? Luke wanted so bad to be in his head, to hear his thoughts, to just know how he felt. If the older hadn’t already said it though, was that already an answer? Was Luke going to die at the hands of a flower? Hershel had no obligation to him, of course he didn’t. Luke knew that much. He was sure the Professor still only thought of him as a child, even if he was in his mid twenties, and there was no way he could feel the same. Luke wasn’t even sure what switch flipped in himself. Suddenly he had been thinking about him constantly, admiring his intellect, every aspect of his personality, every small smile he cracked, every laugh that floated from his lungs. The way that his eyes glistened in his direction, a small touch here and there on his arm or his back… Luke clung to the interactions, each one filling him with a familiar, intense warmth. A lingering heat that spread to the tips of his toes and fingers. Hershel always, without fail, warmed and expanded his chest and caused the blooms inside to shift to escape and tear any tissue they came in contact with.

“Professor, I know this was sudden but,” Luke broke the silence that had sunken into the air around them, his eyes shifting to Hershel’s back. “I sort of… want… I need an answer.” His stomach pinged in pain and his heart picked back up it’s pace in his chest and already he could feel the returning tightness. Though it felt different from before.

Silence was the only answer Luke received for a second. Two seconds. Three. He counted by the sound of his heart beating, pumping blood through his ears. He could feel it surge through his head. The silence was so long that he doubted he would even get a response. 

“Luke… I... I’m not…” Hershel had gripped onto the sink himself now, and Luke could clearly see the tension in his body. His heart panged.

“I’m not a child anymore, Professor.” His hands clutched at each other more firmly, trying to hide the way they trembled.

“Of course you’re not but-”

“Please. Just... talk to me. I can handle anything you have to say…” Luke’s feet planted firmly on the tile as his legs pushed him up to stand from the chair once more. He might not have been entirely ready to do that again, but he wasn’t focused on himself right now.

Hershel turned to look at Luke once more, and the younger saw how his expression contorted. Their eyes met, and the heat spread through Luke’s chest and stomach once again, but he wasn’t coughing. He could only stare into the older’s eyes, searching, trying to decipher his twisted expression. This was one hell of a time to have trouble with it.

“I’m… not sure what I want to say.” Hershel admitted after the long pause, caramel eyes darting away for a second or two.

Now that caught Luke off guard. He paused mid step toward the Professor, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion and head reeling back slightly. “...What do you mean?”

A sigh slipped from the Professor’s lips and a hand raised to wipe a drop of sweat from his own brow. Wait… was he really sweating…? Luke hadn’t noticed that before. Were his hands shaking now too? He found his eyes darting all over the older man, taking in every inch of him he could. He looked nervous… And that certainly wasn’t something that Luke had expected from him now. Hell, ever, really. He could count on one hand the amount of times he had seen the Professor nervous and unsure in a matter such as this. It was unlike him. 

“In all honesty, Luke… I’m not-not entirely sure how I… feel.” Hershel’s voice was thick, his eyes couldn’t stay in one place for too long, his chest rose and fell at an increased pace.

Luke saw it all. 

“Hershel…” A tightness in his chest, an intense warmth, his pumping blood.

“Listen… It’s just that… This has been a very confusing experience…” The heavy air was subsiding as the Professor closed his eyes and let out another sigh. He didn’t seem upset, at the very least.

A smile crawled up the younger’s face. “I know what you mean…” He watched as Hershel opened his eyes once more and their gazes met. 

A small pause, the exchanging of unspoken information. Heat. It became amazingly clear that neither of them were entirely sure about this. Their feelings aligned. 

It was such a big revelation, even if it seemed small. And the lightness in Luke’s chest told him all he needed to know. The Professor didn’t have to say anything more. He understood.

A small laugh floated into the air from Luke’s sore throat, his smile grew, and the warm, airy feeling continued to spread through his body. Hershel’s own expression softened, and just a moment passed before he laughed himself. Happy, relieved chuckles from each of them landed in each other’s ears before slowly dying down, leaving the atmosphere in a different state.

Luke was suddenly a few steps closer, and while he hadn’t exactly remembered his legs carrying him, he wasn’t complaining. Fingers raised to ever so gently trace over the soft cotton of Hershel’s night shirt, warmth surging up through his hands and arms just at the small touches themselves. It was hot… almost unbearably burning through his chest, his lungs. Pressure slowly built up inside, his breath caught on itself as the residual petals in his lungs burnt and crumbled into ash. He almost felt as if he could cough smoke. “Puh-Professor…” He choked on his own breath.

“It’s okay for you to call me Hershel, Luke.” The older voice reassured him in a gentle matter as a hand moved, his own fingers hesitantly brushing over the sleeve of Luke’s shirt above his elbow. His other hand gripped at the edge of the sink behind him, thumb absentmindedly running over the marble of the counter top. Luke found himself observing the small gestures he made with it. “It always has.”

“Well I wish you would have told me that earlier.” Luke teased, his smile not fading in the slightest. “Hershel is much easier to say than Professor.” 

“Ah, my apologies, my boy.” Hershel tilted his head toward the younger in response, his own smile spreading over his face. “I hope you’re not too upset with me.”

“Well… I guess I can forgive you.”

“Thank you.”

Once their mutual giggling from the small interaction faded, a soft, comfortable silence settled in around them. Luke allowed himself to take a half step closer, tensing only a small moment as their chests brushed together and his hands clutched at Hershel’s shirt a bit firmer. His stomach was still twisted in nervousness through the warmth burning within, but this was nice. This small moment. He wanted to bask in it. Roll around in the warmth and never separate himself from it again; The new feeling of the older’s hands on his back did their part to ensure he felt that way, too. It was the most relaxed he had been since the whole infection had started.

A moment of hesitation passed before Luke allowed himself to lean forward and rest his head on the Professor’s shoulder, feeling as the older tense only a moment before relaxing just as well. Another wave of heat exploded through the shorter man, quickly catching fire to every part of his body. He had never felt heat so intense, so inviting as the kind that resonated from Hershel. And of course, the irony wasn’t lost on Luke. The very person who had caused this infection, this agonizing tearing of his lungs, was the one to cure and soothe and burn away the buds. 

“We could… take this a day at a time, if you’d like.” Hershel broke the silence.

“I would.” Luke’s eyes drifted to the window, looking out and catching onto the faint tinges of gold on the horizon. The sun was rising. He hadn’t realized the time, he supposed.

“I’m glad.” 

Luke’s heart expanded in his chest, causing a good type of tension inside. It’d be nice not to feel that crushing anymore. He relaxed there for a few more moments, taking in the silence and Hershel’s natural scent before he forced himself to stand up straight, a little to the older’s surprise. “The sun’s rising.”

A pause as the Professor’s head turned to the window to see the emerging shimmers of light himself. “Ah… so it is.” Hands slowly slid from Luke’s back to his arms, right above where his elbows rested. 

Luke let his eyes linger on the horizon another moment before he turned his head just in time to meet Hershel’s eyes. There was a different glimmer about them now. It wasn’t unwelcome, either. It was soft, sweet, warm… He was always warm. His hands slowly let go of the fabric in between his fingers but paused to linger just another second. Two seconds. Three. “Oh, I should clean the sink…”

“I’ll help you.” 

“You don’t have to do that.” 

Hershel’s hands stayed in place on Luke’s arms even after the younger had pulled his own away, thumbs gently pinching and caressing the fabric in between his fingers. Luke could see the thoughts drifting around behind the Professor’s eyes.

“I want to.”

Luke found his senses enveloped in another sea of warmth. He was warm a whole lot after that too, and he quickly forgot what flowers even tasted like.


End file.
